


I'll love you forever from now till the end

by owilde



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And we're pretending Simon is very much aware of his love for Baz, Baz is pining, Fluff, Get Together, M/M, This is ridiculous, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, honestly so much fluff it's ridiculous, there be swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 19:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6580030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owilde/pseuds/owilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon's smile is just a little too forced. His eyes are just a little too dim. His freckles are just a little too visible. He's just a little too gorgeous for Baz, which, Baz thinks, is such a fucking tragedy in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll love you forever from now till the end

**Author's Note:**

> So, Carry On stole my heart last fall and I haven't been able to get over it. This fic is the result of me wanting to write pining Baz, and fluffy love confessions, and so here we are.
> 
> Title taken from Trevor Moran's " _Someone_ ".

Baz isn't used to this. He _should_ be, by all accounts. But somehow loving Simon Snow hasn't gotten any easier over the years, and Baz still finds his heart beat speeding up as Simon walks into the hall with Bunce by his side, laughing. It's the most beautiful fucking thing Baz has ever heard, and he hates himself for it just a bit more. 

Baz allows his eyes to trace Simon's features briefly, soaking it all in after the summer though he knows he shouldn't. Simon's smile is just a little too forced. His eyes are just a little too dim. His freckles are just a little too visible. He's just a little too gorgeous for Baz, which, Baz thinks, is such a fucking tragedy in the end.

What kind of fucking luck, really. For Baz to fall for _Simon bloody Snow_ out of all the possible people. He used to wish he could've loved Agatha, instead. He used to wish he could've loved anyone else, really. But world is hardly so fair.

Baz tears his gaze away when Simon sits down on the other side of the hall, saying something that makes the people around him laugh loudly. It's irrational to be jealous of those people, he knows, but Baz can't help it. He wants Simon to tell him jokes, too. He wants Simon to just _talk_ to him. But Baz sabotaged that for himself long time ago. Because Baz 'is fucking stupid and can't handle his feelings'. That's what his aunt had told him, at least. She wasn't wrong.

The steps to their shared room feel more challenging than usual as Baz climbs them up after dinner that night. He knows Simon's in there already, because it's late and Baz knows from experience that Simon goes to sleep early. Or pretends to. Maybe he stays up thinking about Baz, like Baz stays up thinking about him. Though if he does, he probably just dreams of snapping Baz's neck.

Baz stops in front of the door, taking a deep breath. It's always a strange feeling, after the summer, to start pretending again. Pretending that he despises Simon. Pretending that he couldn't care less, when in reality he cares too much. Pretending that he's the same Baz he was last spring when he left, like nothing's changed. He opens the door and walks in.

Simon's curled up on his bed, strands of blonde hair falling on his forehead. There's a book lying on the floor next to him, and Simon's fingertips touch the cover lightly. He's snoring. Baz sighs, closing the door after him. It's not fair, what Simon does. It's not fair how he makes Baz love him just a tiny bit more each time by simply _existing_. 

Baz walks over, grabbing the book carefully as to not wake Simon, placing it on the night stand next to Simon's wand. He wonders if Simon truly trusts Baz enough, after all, to just leave his wand lying around. Then he figures he's probably reading too much into things again. Next to him, Simon huffs softly and turns over, now facing the wall. Baz considers whether or not he should drag Simon's covers over him, or if that's too creepy. Eventually he settles on thinking _fuck it_ , and moves Simon's blanket so it falls over his shoulder. It's kind of cold, anyway.

He turns the lights off, changes his clothes, and is just about to slip into his own bed when he hears Simon mumble something. Baz freezes, half sitting, half lying. 

"Baz?" Simon asks in a hushed voice. He turns around again, facing Baz, who can, even in the dark, make out every single detail of his complexion. Simon's frowning, but he looks more confused than angry. Baz sighs.

"Snow," he replies carefully in a neutral tone. 

"I don't understand you," Simon confesses. Then he sits up, ruffling his hair. Baz's eye twitches. He's not allowed to do that, it's not _right_ for anyone. 

"You've suddenly lost your ability to understand basic English? I'm sure that's something you can work on," Baz quips, quickly falling back to his old charade. He hates it, hates it so much. He hates Simon. Except, he doesn't, not in the least bit.

Simon bites his lip, and it takes all the will power Baz has to not slam his head against the wall. 

"I meant that I don't understand what you're doing. What's your end game here, Baz? You resent me, you always have. I don't understand why you keep contradicting that with... with _taking care of me_ , like this." Simon pauses, then says, "I hear you talking to yourself at night, sometimes."

Baz freezes. His blood turns to ice, he feels his skin tingling uncomfortably, his thoughts halt to a stop. He tries to sit up and ends up leaning against the wall, the room spinning around him. He needs to keep his act up, needs to keep playing the game, because Simon can't know. 

_Come on Baz_ , he thinks in panic, _say something to him. Anything_. He browses through his thoughts, seconds ticking by. 

"I don't resent you," is what eventually comes out of his mouth, and this time Baz can't stop himself from slamming his head to the wall. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_. Baz looks over at Simon, who's blinking in confusion.

"You don't? You've done nothing but insult, offend and threaten me for the past five years," Simon says bitterly. He's right, of course. Baz tries to focus, tries to slip back into his lies, but he finds himself instead wanting to tell Simon everything. It's not logical, and he shouldn't, he very much shouldn't. But _god_ he wants to.

"No, Snow, I don't," he starts, feeling himself fall down a rabbit hole he can't climb back up. "I don't hate you. I don't hate your freckles. I don't hate your inability to control your magic. I don't hate your lack of manners. I don't hate your loyalty. I don't hate your snoring. I don't hate how you make my heart race. I don't hate how I never know whether I want to kill you, or kiss you. I truly do not hate a thing about you, Simon."

Baz counts the seconds of silence in his mind. He shouldn't have said any of that. He should've just kept quiet, what the fuck is wrong with him, how can he be _so fucking stupid_ -

Then Simon huffs out a weak laugh. Baz looks at him, bewildered. _Why is he laughing?_

"You called me Simon," he says, and this time Baz wants to bash _Simon's_ head against a wall.

"That's it?" Baz hisses, standing up. This was a mistake, he needs to leave now, he can't be here for the rest of the night.

Simon hurries to stand up as well, catching Baz by his wrist. Baz looks down at where Simon's fingers curl around his hand, holding him gently in place. The contact makes his skin tingle. 

Fuck Simon for doing this to him. 

Baz's eyes flicker back to look at Simon's face, only to find him staring at him already. Their eyes lock, and Baz can't run _now_ , can he? Simon is smiling brightly, and Baz wants him to keep smiling forever.

"You've never called me Simon before," he says, but it feels like he's saying something much more. Baz can feel him leaning closer, can smell Simon's shampoo and count all of his freckles.

"I've called you Simon plenty times in my head," Baz replies and it sounds utterly _ridiculous_ , his aunt would be ashamed. Simon doesn't seem to think it's ridiculous - Simon laughs. Baz thinks Simon's laughter could possibly stop every war and end all suffering. He never wants it to stop.

"You've thought about me?" Simon asks with a smirk, quickly glancing at Baz's lips before looking up again. Baz's heart is beating too fast, and Simon is too close, and it's all too much and yet _not enough_.

"I never stop thinking about you," Baz tells him honestly, and he feels Simon's fingers let go of his wrist and start trailing up his arm, over his shoulder, stopping at his cheek. Baz catches his breath as Simon leans still a bit closer, his other hand coming to rest around Baz's waist. 

"That so?" Simon whispers. 

Baz desperately doesn't want this moment to end. Simon might want to forget this in the morning, because most things said at night are easy to lock behind closed doors come daylight. Simon might want Baz to be kicked out of the school once he comes to his senses. Simon might not be there at all, and this might all be Baz's hallucination. But right now, in this moment, he finds himself not caring the least bit.

"That so," Baz confirms quietly. 

Simon removes his hand from Baz's cheek, placing it on the other side of Baz's waist. Then he leans his head against Baz's shoulder, staying there. Baz is still for a minute. Then, he takes a shuddering breath, lifting his left arm to thread his fingers through Simon's hair. _Finally_. Simon sighs contently.

"I want to kiss you, honestly," Simon admits and Baz wants to tell him that he can, he _should_ , that he wants that too, but then Simon continues.

"You have no idea how much I want to do that, but not yet. Not here."

And Baz thinks he understands. Here, with Simon holding him and time frozen and the moment held in place and stored in his memory, Baz understands. 

"Not yet," he agrees, closing his eyes. They have time. Baz smiles, daring to place his free hand on Simon's shoulder. The stand together in the dark room.

"Baz?" Simon whispers, and Baz gets a thrill out of hearing his name from Simon knowing something's changes. _Everything's_ changed.

"Yes?"

"You really don't hate my snoring?"

And Baz laughs, he laughs until his stomach hurts, he laughs like he's never laughed before. Maybe he hasn't, not like this. Baz is so fucking in love with Simon, but it's alright. He has a feeling that Simon is also very much in love with Baz. And it's all alright. _They_ are alright.


End file.
